Assassin's Creed (Adaptation)
by CitizenCreed
Summary: An adaptation of the original 2007 game, Assassin's Creed sees Desmond Miles kidnapped and forced to relive the memories of his 12th century ancestor Altair Ibn-La'Ahad who after breaking the Assassin's Creed, must reclaim his honor in the middle of the Third Crusade.
1. Chapter I: A New Reality

Desmond Miles' hazy mind was shattered into consciousness by a new reality. With all his senses under attack, he tried to grab onto something concrete. Seeing figures approaching him, he reached out, but quickly tumbled back when he saw they had no faces. They surrounded him, giving Desmond an alien feeling of claustrophobia.

"I applied my heart to know wisdom, and to know madness and folly", an unknown yet somehow familiar voice echoed through his very core. "I perceived that this also was a chasing at wind, for in much wisdom, is much grief."

The feelings Desmond felt were not his, yet he felt them all the same. The decision to break away from the faceless horde was not his own, yet he did it anyway. Even though he did not make the choice, he somehow still felt himself making it.

"And he that increaseth knowledge, increaseth sorrow."

"We've got a problem," a new female voice said. But this one was different. It was not a part of whatever _this_ was. "I can't anchor him to the memory. Too much psychological trauma. He's rejecting the treatment. Retreating."

"Desmond, I need you to try and relax." Another voice away from all this. Desmond tried to cling to it, taking it all in, all the details. This one was male and definitely older than the other one.

"Let me try and stabilize it." the other one said.

"Focus. Listen to the sound of my voice. Recognize that what you're seeing isn't real. Just a picture of the past. It can't hurt you."

Not real? Just a picture? None of it made any sense. Where the hell was he? Everything felt real to Desmond, but they were not _his_ feelings. It was like he was an actor acting out all the parts and somehow even the thoughts and emotions of the character as well. And none of it was of his own free will. He had to resist.

"Damn it!" It was the female voice again. "It's not working."

"Give it a moment, Ms. Stillman. He'll adjust. The first time is never easy."

"We're losing him!"

"That's enough Ms. Stillman!"

"We need to pull him out. _Now_."

As Desmond began to give up, resigning to the idea that he would be forever trapped in this descent into madness, he heard the male voice sigh in defeat.

"Alright, Desmond. We're going to try and bring you out now." 

A/N: I will be updating this story with at least one chapter every Sunday, unless something comes up that is more important.


	2. Chapter II: Animus

**Chapter II: Animus**

Desmond snapped awake, gasping for breath as his eyes darted around the room. It was quite large, much bigger than his small apartment, although that was not saying much. Despite the size, most of its space seemed wasted. Save for a few small desks and computers, it was mostly just the blindingly white open floor.

"You okay?" said a woman to Desmond's left, reminding him he was not alone.

"I told you he'd be fine," said the man to his right. Who the hell were these people?

"Bastards!" Desmond yelled.

"Now, now, I just saved your life," responded the man in an irritatingly calm voice.

"Saved my life?! You kidnapped me! You strapped me into that -" Desmond looked down at the table he had been laying on, unsure what to make of it. "- thing!"

"Animus. It's an Animus."

"I don't even know you people! Why are you doing this to me?"

"You have information we need, Mr. Miles."

"Information? I'm a bartender, for Christ's sake! What do you want me to do, teach you how to mix a martini?!"

"We know who you are. _What_ you are."

"I-I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't play coy with me. There isn't time. You're an Assassin. And whether you realize it or not, you've got something that my employers want, locked away in that head of yours."

"But I'm not an Assassin! Not anymore."

"Yes, your file indicated as much. Something about an escape. Most fortunate for us."

"What do you want from me?"

"For you to do as you're told," the man answered, temporarily abandoning his amused tone for a more sinister one. "The Animus will allow us to locate what we need. Once we have it, you'll be free to go."

"I am not going back in there!"

"Then we'll induce a coma, and continue our work. When we're done, you'll be left to die." The man smirked, knowing he was in total control. He returned to his soft-spoken, mocking tone, relishing Desmond's acceptance that he was the one with all the power. "Truth be told, the only reason you're still conscious is because this approach saves us time."

"You're insane!"

"So what is it, Mr. Miles? Live or die? Lie down."

Desmond remained silent, trying to desperately come up with some way out of his situation, but there was nothing.

"Lie down, Desmond," said the woman reassuringly.

Finally accepting the situation, Desmond lay down on the strange metal table in defeat.

"A wise decision," said the man as he pressed a button, causing a curved screen to extend over Desmond's face. Even know he was being held against his will, Desmond could not help being entranced by the strands of DNA flying across the screen.

"Whoa. Where am I?," he asked.

"You're inside the Animus," the man answered.

"Which is?"

"It's a projector that renders genetic memories in three dimensions."

"Genetic memory?"

"Seems you'll need a bit of a tutorial," the man sighed, although secretly he did take pleasure in teaching the ignorant, just not for the same reasons most did. "Very well, we'll start simple. What is a memory, Mr. Miles?"

"It's the… recollection of a past event."

"Specific to the individual remembering the event."

"Yeah, sure."

"What if I told you that the human body not only housed an individual's memory, but the memories of his ancestors as well. Genetic memory, if you will. Migration, hibernation, reproduction. How do animals know when and where to go? What to do?"

"That's just animal instinct."

"Now you're arguing semantics, Mr. Miles. Whatever you call it, the fact remains. These creatures hold knowledge, absent the requisite first-hand experience. I've spent the past thirty years trying to understand why. I've discovered something most fascinating. Our DNA functions as an archive. It contains not only genetic instructions passed down from previous generations, but memories as well. The memories of our ancestors."

"And the Animus lets you decode and read those DNA files."

"Precisely."

"But there's a problem," the woman interjected. "There is a specific memory we're trying to access. Unfortunately, when we try and open the memory, your mind withdraws. You lack the confidence to step into your ancestor's body. That's what happened earlier. You got knocked out of the target memory and pushed back to a more stable state."

"Why?"

"It's your subconscious. It's resisting. We found similar reactions among patients who undergo hypnosis to relive traumatic events. They can't jump directly into the specific memory. They need to be eased in. Even then, there can be problems."

"So how do we fix it?"

"We find a memory you _can_ synchronize with and we move forward from there. Try not to resist this time. I know it feels wrong, but you need to relax and let your ancestor's actions happen as they did in the memory. You'll get used to it. I'm uploading the new memory now."


	3. Chapter III: Respect the Creed

**Chapter III: Respect the Creed**

"Wait! There must be another way. This one need not die."

Ignoring Malik's cowardice, Altair continued to analyse his target. The man was old and feeble. He was hunched over, possibly sick as well, judging by his thin frame and face. Or maybe he was just hungry? It did not matter. He would never see it coming. Altair dashed forward through the caverns, quickly extending his hidden wrist blade mechanism with an expert flick of the wrist, and plunging it deep into the old man's neck, taking his life in an efficient, silent stab.

"An excellent kill," congratulated Kadar. "Fortune favors your blade."

"Not fortune. Skill," declared Altair confidently. "Watch a while longer and you might learn something."

"Indeed," said Malik in disgust. "He'll teach you how to disregard everything the Master's taught us."

"And how would you have done it?" Altair sneered.

"I would not have drawn attention to us. I would not have taken the life of an innocent. What I would have done is followed the Creed!"

"Nothing is true, everything is permitted. Understand these words. It matters not how we complete our task, only that it is done."

"But that is not the way-"

"-My way is better."

Malik stared at Altair in disbelief. He could not stand to be alongside him any longer. "I will scout ahead. Try not to dishonor us further."

Once Malik was out of earshot, Kadar turned to Altair and asked, "What is our mission? My brother would say nothing to me. Only that I should be honored to have been invited."

"The Master believes the Templars have found something beneath the Temple Mount."

"Treasure?" Kadar questioned excitedly.

"I do not know. All that matters is the Master considers it important, else he would not have asked me to retrieve it."

And with that, Altair and Kadar continued through the ruins beneath the Temple Mount, what was said to be what remained of King Solomon's Temple. The Crusaders had captured the Al-Aqsa Mosque in 1120, making it the Templars' headquarters. That was until four years ago in 1187 when King Saladin retook Jerusalem and removed every last trace of the Templars from the Temple Mount. And as Altair caught up with Malik, he vowed to make sure it stayed that way.

"There! That must be the Ark," Malik pointed out, directing Altair and Kadar's gazes to the cavernous hall below, where sure enough was a large, ornately decorated and gilded chest.

"The Ark...," whispered Kadar in awe. "...of the Covenant?"

"Don't be silly," said Altair. "There's no such thing. It's just a story."

"Then what is it?"

"Quiet!" Malik interrupted. "Someone's coming."

Entering the hall was a group of Templars led by none other than Grandmaster Robert de Sable himself. "I want this through this gate before sunrise," he commanded. "The sooner we possess it, the sooner we can turn our attention to those jackals at Masyaf."

"Robert de Sable!" said Altair. "His life is mine."

"No!" pleaded Malik. "We were asked to retrieve the treasure and deal with Robert only if necessary."

"He stands between us and it. I'd say it's necessary."

"Discretion, Altair!"

"You mean cowardice. That man is our greatest enemy. And here we have a chance to be rid of him!"

"You have already broken two tenets of our Creed. Now you would break the third. Do not compromise the Brotherhood!"

"I am your superior, in both title and ability!" interjected Altair, sick of Malik's constant whining. "You should know better than to question me."

Unable to bear another second of it, Altair jumped into the hall, striding to the Templars confidently. "Hold, Templars! You are not the only ones with business here."

"Ah, well this explains my missing man," said Robert. "And what is it you want?"

"Blood," said Altair simply, making a quick dash towards Robert.

"No, no!" yelled Malik, chasing after Altair, but it was too late.

Robert grabbed both of Altair's arms with ease, stopping him dead in his tracks as he struggled to break away. Altair's arrogance angered him. "You know not the things in which you meddle, Assassin. I spare you only that you may return to your Master and deliver a message: The Holy Land is lost to him and his. He should flee now while he has the chance. Stay, and all of you will die."

With that final word of warning, Robert threw Altair out of the hall as the ruins fell behind him, leaving him trapped outside. All he could do was stand there and listen.

"Men, to arms!" commanded Robert. "Kill the Assassins!"

Unable to bear hearing the sounds of scraping metal blades and screams of pain from his soon to be fallen brothers, Altair began making his way out of the Temple Mount. How could he do this? How could he have let this happen? It should have been impossible. He had everything worked out in head. Not only would he have successfully brought the treasure to his Master, but also the blood of Robert de Sable, their greatest enemy. He would be championed and Malik would only be able to glower in jealousy.

As Altair found and stared through a broken section of wall to the outside world, he knew the journey back to Masyaf would be torturous. Rather than having the company of Malik and Kadar, Altair would only have the knowledge that he was the reason they were not beside him.


End file.
